Tokyo Puts on Fake Smiles

TWENTY FOURTH ACT: Productivity Has Two Faces

Hypothesis of a Famished Dream

Many people showed me a distinguished, yet shallow appreciation—a love built on lies. Somehow, I could see through their smiles.

For a while, I thought Kazuhiro was the same, only able to love the Ayumi who played music, forgetting all the other facets I kept hidden. Rejecting my vulnerability, he embraced the little strength I had left.

He fed off the pulse of my guitar, my broken voice trying to follow his song. He caressed the scabs on my blisters and kissed them, murmuring in between sweet, fleeting words.

I didn't need anyone to idolize me. I needed love. I needed someone to hold my hand, look me in the eyes, and accept me with all my flaws. Without realizing it, I had locked myself in my own "octopus trap".

If our bond went beyond that, it didn't matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise. It didn't matter if I pulled away; it didn't matter if he pulled away; it didn't matter if the sky fell, because the next day, he would hold me, and, afraid, I might run away again.

After all, it didn't matter, because I didn't want to be rejected. But I was rejected.

☻☻☻

The memory of the last day I spent at the Takagi house in Setagaya was forever marked by Kazuhiro's unfinished—or rather, expired—kiss. That night, in the alley where we always met, we decided to forget everything.

I didn't want to admit it, but I knew that because my ears burned and the rhythm in my chest reminded me with each heartbeat of my breath, it had meant something to me. But how could I ignore Kazuhiro's touch?

Dazed, I covered my face with my forearm, closing my eyes. In the darkness, cradled by the autumn breeze, I remembered each one of his smiles: happy, mischievous, melancholic, forced, and warm. I recalled his vulnerable expression, sleeping at the table, and his frown when he was angry, snapping his fingers against my forehead. I remembered his concern when he took my fingers, caressing them.

I remembered the orange light of the festival lanterns plunging onto his face, exposing the sly curve of a new smile; and unintentionally, I remembered the same red light from the nearby street's traffic signal, illuminating his figure in the distance, walking ahead of me.

A shiver ran down my spine. I felt Nanako's soft, melodic laugh on the back of my neck, and I instantly opened my eyes, terrified. Nervously, I pulled my hand away and looked to my sides, where all I could make out was the dark end of the alley to my right, and the deserted avenue to my left. Relieved, I sighed.

I didn't understand where his line ended and mine began, or if they were meant to head in the same direction, but I was sure I had screwed up, and royally. Without thinking, I had come between Kazuhiro and his girl.

Exhausted, I pushed myself off the wall and walked toward the bar's back door. I needed to rest, to clear my mind, and just for that reason, upon entering and seeing the empty stage, I decided to go up.

Hiding my nervousness, I approached my aunt at the bar.

"Aunt Sumire, I..."

But before I could ask for permission to go up, she nodded silently.

Satisfied, I returned her smile. "Thank you," I said, running toward the iron monster's stairs.

I grabbed the acoustic guitar, propped against the amplifiers in one of the corners. I approached the microphone, and while adjusting it, I glanced at the usual table where my friends were seated. Miyoko, Minato, Reina, Makoto, Manami, and next to Nanako, Kazuhiro.